


walking back to your house (walking on the moon)

by frogfarm



Category: Castaway On the Moon (2009)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Korean Characters, Romantic Fluff, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Ever so slowly, the world begins to move again.Female Kim POV. Post-movie.





	walking back to your house (walking on the moon)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a first for me, and for this fandom, as I'm apparently the first person to write fanfic for it.
> 
> I heartily recommend this movie as a very enjoyable romantic comedy that both exploits and subverts all the classic tropes and cliches of the genre.

Ever so slowly, the world begins to move again.

Kim loses her balance as the bus lurches into motion, half-falling into the seat next to her alien. Outside the window the city moves by at increasing speed, and the other passengers look away, pretending to ignore them. She barely notices, staring into his laughing, crying eyes, holding onto his grimy, calloused hands as tears trickle down his face and into his scruffy beard.

By unspoken agreement, they speak only English, halting and slow though it is for them both. She can't help a giggle upon learning they share the same name.

"I am Kim Seong-geun. From Do-bong-go."

"I am Kim Jung-yeon. From..." She hesitates, for the first time since meeting him in person. Part of her is unsure whether to name the town of her birth, while the rest is remembering what awaits them back in her apartment. It's ridiculous, really, and why would someone who's been living like a caveman bat an eye at her self-imposed squalor, her piles of empty cans and sleeping bag made of bubble wrap?

In her fretting, she almost misses her street. She pulls the signal before she can stop herself, holding onto the seat in front of her and staring straight ahead. She's still wearing only her long T-shirt, and while she's not really self-conscious about her legs, the scar on her face is itching, demanding that she cover it up with the motorcycle helmet she neglected to bring with her in the mad dash to find her alien.

He senses her discomfort and reaches out a hand, assisting her to her feet. They disembark with all eyes upon them once more, and she takes refuge in the feeling of his skin, rough with months of labor.

"That's me." She points to her window far above, grateful for the distraction. He squints upward, then turns to look out over the bridge, measuring the view of his island from here, then turns back with a nod.

"You see."

She nods back, petrified. He shakes his head and smiles.

The security guard is sprawled in his chair when they enter the lobby, with a magazine propped on his belly. He looks up and Kim's ready to run, wishes for a toy robot she could hurl to distract him so they can make their getaway.

"I live here," she says. After all, he might not recognize her without the helmet. He nods, dumbfounded, as they enter the elevator.

The ride up is long enough to bring her agitation to something less than a simmer, the tiny environment a familiar enough cocoon to somewhat lull her into some small sense of security. The walk down the hall is less so, and when they open the door she can only offer him a seat on the couch, back to the same awkward interactions.

"May I have some water?"

She has a brief fumble searching for the proper response. "Of course."

She doesn't hear her mother's footsteps as she draws from the faucet, and when she does she stands frozen, on the precipice of decision. His eyes are on her as he tries to puzzle her out, and then Mom walks out of her room and stops dead in her tracks at the sight of this hairy stranger sitting on their couch. Most guys would rocket to their feet and go into a frenzy of bowing but he just sits there; looking at her mother like he can't believe she exists, fascinated into immobility by her mere presence, unable to make the connection between mother and daughter. Until finally he nods with a thoughtful look, so serious Kim nearly laughs at the silliness, and bows his head twice with infinite respect. Mom returns the gesture with only momentary hesitation, throwing a quick glance at her daughter that promises some sort of paternal lecture later that evening.

She's almost ready to let him into her room when she remembers all the photos on her wall. That takes less courage.

She looks him in the eye, her hand on the knob, holding up three fingers.

Opening the door, she holds up the first finger, pointing to her camera at the window. Holding up two, she points at the photos covering the far wall. Finally she indicates the little pots of growing baby corn, still lying scattered and broken from the recent windstorm.

He looks back and forth between them, then walks over to the window and looks out at the island in the distance. Looking back at the photos, he crosses the room and stands before the wall, running his fingers over the still images. A smile springs to life at the one of him standing on the beach, hands on his hips in triumph; at the one of him pretending to swim on the cartoon waves dug into the sand. And there he is in the cornfield, hard at work. He looks over at her own plants, their tiny green shoots bent and crushed.

Casting about for something, anything else, her eye falls on the takeout menu. She grabs it and holds it up.

"If I order...will you eat?"

She sees the flash of recognition. He frowns, lost in thought. Then he looks up and nods, almost cautiously.

_"Jajangmyeon?"_ she asks, before she remembers. "Sorry - black bean noodles?"

He smiles just a little, then it gets bigger, and he nods again.

When she opens the door, she thinks the delivery boy is going to cry. But she manages a smile for him, and a bow: _"Nŏmu, kamsahamnida."_ He stands there, befuddled, as she counts out a generous tip, and then his jaw drops at the sight of the scruffy, bearded Kim. Who also smiles and bows: _"Kamsahamnida."_

They make sure to order extra in case her parents want any. Mom just clucks her tongue like she sees right through this transparent attempt at bribery, and takes a double portion back to her room.

The sun is setting fast, and she shows him the island through her camera while there's still light to see. Then it's gone, and the idea of spending the night wrapped up in plastic is sounding less appealing by the moment.

She takes him by the hand, marvelling once more at the reality of their connection. Like spaceships in the night.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

It turns out he is.  


* * *

  
Commandeering another duck boat turns out to be the most time-consuming part of the process. The ocean journey goes quickly enough; they take turns pedalling when the other tires, and before they know it they're pulling the boat up the beach, covering it with a tarp as rain starts to fall. Gentle, not like the vengeful storm that had been so unkind to their crops. Sitting on a pile of cushions, looking out of the duck as the moon rises over the water, she sets up the camera to take a picture of them, nestled together in the back seat.

Then she turns it off.  


* * *

  
Back at her apartment the next morning, she brings up her website. It takes a few minutes to make sure all the old fake posts are deleted. Years worth of shoes and handbags, fancy hairdoes and makeovers. All gone.

Then she puts up a new header:

> **HELLO.**
> 
> **THIS IS ME**
> 
> **AND MY ALIEN**

She looks over at him, seeking acknowledgement. Permission. He smiles, and nods.

She presses ENTER.

Seconds later, the picture is up.

They sit together, looking at the page, and a flickering tendril of the old anxiety curdles in her stomach. When will the first hit come? How many will there be? More hate mail, more accusations of fraud --

She turns to him and hugs him with all her heart and soul, with all the strength in her body. Feels his lips in her hair, the slight tremble of his body.

She pulls back, and looks him in the eye.

"Let's go out."

He blinks, and then thinks on it. "Where to?"

She smiles as she takes him by the hand.

"Anywhere."  


* * *

  



End file.
